


stacy's mom

by putorius



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Iguanas, M/M, Pets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 04:31:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10779618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/putorius/pseuds/putorius
Summary: “Excuse me,” he’d said to an old woman in the pet store uniform. “Could I see that lizard there?”She’d squinted at him, forgetting her glasses as they hung around her neck. She’d unlocked the enclosure and allowed Enjolras to pick up the iguana. As soon as she climbed into his hand, he knew. He was going to bust her out of there.A patron in the next isle required the assistance of the old woman. She eyed him carefully and then went to assist the other patron. Enjolras scrambled to come up with a plan. Relying on the woman’s eyesight being truly, truly terrible, he grabbed a smallish green dog toy and stuck it in one of the iguana’s hides. Slipping the true iguana into his sweatshirt pocket, he called out to the old woman.“I’ve put him back, thank you,” he said.She waved him off. “Be sure to close the tank,” she said.He nodded. He then took a brisk walk out of the store. He’d forgotten the dog food.---otherwise known as enjolras steals an iguana and puts his foot in his mouthotherwise otherwise known as author loves iguanas and really just wanted to write a fic about them





	stacy's mom

**Author's Note:**

> this is. one of the stupidest things ive ever written, but it was really fun to write, so

He’d stolen the iguana from his local pet shop when he was eleven. His parents, already unable to handle his stubbornness and steadfast attitude, were forced to relent and let him keep the thing. They procured the appropriate accommodations for it under the watchful eye of Enjolras, and they assumed they wouldn’t have to deal with it for very long. Surely lizards don’t live especially long, they thought. Surely it won’t get much larger.

\---

He was straightening his papers up at the end of the Amis meeting. He was flushed with anger and exertion, splotchy pockets of a blush covering his face. He shook his head - a poor attempt at tossing his bangs out of his face without using his hands - and huffed. Grantaire approached.

“Look,” he said. “I’m  _ sorry _ . I shouldn’t - it’s stupid for me to make fun of something you’ve dedicated your life to, even if I think it’s pointless. It’s still your life. I should respect that.”

Enjolras balked at him. He hadn’t been expecting an apology. He snapped himself out of it.

“Oh,” he said. “Oh, yes, um. Well, thank you, Grantaire. I appreciate that. I was out of line as well, and I’d like to apologize for that.”

Grantaire nodded, but it was only because he didn’t know what else to do.

“So, like,” said Grantaire. “D’you wanna like, I don’t know, grab a drink? Or something? I know it’s sort of late, but we could probably find a coffee shop open. I feel like we should talk. Like, actually talk, not just shout at each other.”

“Oh,” said Enjolras, mood dropping. “Oh my gosh, I can’t.”

“Oh,” Grantaire looked crestfallen. “That’s okay.”

“I have to bathe my lizard,” said Enjolras, perhaps too loud for comfort. “I just- if I don’t get home to do it soon, she’ll be cross with me.”

“Sure, I get it,” said Grantaire. He turned to walk away.

Grantaire was out the door before Enjolras could ask him to reschedule.

\---

When Enjolras came into the apartment, Robespierre was glaring at him with a piece of lettuce in her mouth.

“Please don’t shit on my floor,” said Enjolras. “Also, please eat some fruit. I gave you canteloupe for a reason.”

Robespierre kept on glaring at him.

“Alright, alright,” said Enjolras.

He dropped his bag at the side of the couch and hung up his jacket. Then, he crossed the room to where Robespierre was relaxing and picked her up. She was nearly five feet long, tail included.

“You used to be small, you know,” said Enjolras. “You fit in the palm of my hand when I first got you.”

Robespierre said nothing in return. Enjolras took her to the bathroom and set her down on the floor.

“Stay,” he said. She looked at him.

He turned the faucet on, checking that the drain was open and that the temperature was alright. Then he picked Robespierre up and set her in the tub.

“Would you like some privacy?” he asked. She didn’t respond.

Pulling out his phone, Enjolras dialed Combeferre.

“‘Lo?” asked Combeferre.

“I told him I had to bathe my lizard,” said Enjolras. “He asked me to get coffee, and I told him I had to go home and bathe my lizard.”

“Is she in the bath right now?” asked Combeferre, who was straining to hear the run of the faucet over the phone.

“Yes,” said Enjolras. “It’s poop time.”

Enjolras pinched the bridge of his nose. What he was saying was true - iguanas preferred to poop in running water, inexplicably, and so he had to run the bath every night. It didn’t stop it from sounding ridiculous when he said it out loud.

“Who are you talking about, anyway?” asked Combeferre.

“Grantaire,” said Enjolras.

“Grantaire asked you out for coffee? And you said you had to bathe a lizard?” asked Combeferre, the hint of a smile breaking through his voice.

“Please don’t rub it in,” said Enjolras. “And it wasn’t so much that he asked me out for coffee, it was more that he suggested we grab coffee to set aside our differences.”

“So, he asked you out for coffee,” said Combeferre.

Enjolras, who was frustrated with the common connotational distinctions between the two, gritted his teeth.

“Sure,” he said. “He asked me out for coffee, and I told him what might be the stupidest sounding excuse of all time.”

“Well, it was true,” said Combeferre.

“Do you think Grantaire believed it? Honestly?” asked Enjolras.

“Ah,” said Combeferre. “No, I do not. However, this is easily fixed.”

“Hm?”

“Just ask him over for coffee. Let him meet the lizard,” said Combeferre.

Enjolras laughed. “Yes, let me just call him up and say, ‘Hello, I need you to come meet the iguana you think is fictitious. She’s named after a figure from the French Revolution. This will assuage all your fears about the future of our theoretical friendship.’”

“Basically,” said Combeferre. “That sounds appropriate to me. Do you need his phone number?”

“Goodbye, Combeferre,” said Enjolras.

He looked down at Robespierre, who had shit all over the bathtub.

“Great,” he said.

\---

Eleven was a remarkable age for Enjolras because he had already begun to develop his revolutionary ideology, but still held the impulse control and thought processes of a child. So, when he discovered that the iguana at the local pet store was being mistreated, fed wilting lettuce and in an enclosure that was much too small for it, he stole it. If he’d inspected the store further, he’d have found that this was much the same situation for nearly all of the animals, but he’d only seen the iguana. He was picking up some dog food for a family friend when he saw her. He’d had to walk right past her enclosure.

“Excuse me,” he’d said to an old woman in the pet store uniform. “Could I see that lizard there?”

She’d squinted at him, forgetting her glasses as they hung around her neck. She’d unlocked the enclosure and allowed Enjolras to pick up the iguana. As soon as she climbed into his hand, he knew. He was going to bust her out of there.

A patron in the next isle required the assistance of the old woman. She eyed him carefully and then went to assist the other patron. Enjolras scrambled to come up with a plan. Relying on the woman’s eyesight being truly, truly terrible, he grabbed a smallish green dog toy and stuck it in one of the iguana’s hides. Slipping the true iguana into his sweatshirt pocket, he called out to the old woman.

“I’ve put him back, thank you,” he said.

She waved him off. “Be sure to close the tank,” she said.

He nodded. He then took a brisk walk out of the store. He’d forgotten the dog food.

Upon reaching his bedroom, he realized he’d made a terrible mistake. He had nothing to care for an iguana. He grabbed a laundry basket and stuck her inside before going to beg mercy from his parents.

\---

Enjolras cornered Grantaire at the end of the next meeting.

“Look at this,” said Enjolras, shoving his phone into Grantaire’s face. “Halloween last year.”

Grantaire squinted at the phone. It was a picture of a largish lizard with a small plastic crown on it’s head.

“Um,” said Grantaire.

“She’s dressed as Queen Elizabeth,” said Enjolras. “A figure of both the perils of the monarchy  _ and  _ capitalism. You know, scary. For Halloween.”

“Hey, man, uh,” said Grantaire. “Literally what the fuck is this.”

“And also,” said Enjolras, now scrolling for another picture. “Here she is, ruining my day.”

It was a picture Courfeyrac had taken. Enjolras, mid-swear, clutching at his foot. He’d stepped on a sharp part of Robespierre’s shed, presumably a spike. In the corner, you could see Robespierre looking rather smug.

“Dude,” said Grantaire.

“And this one,” said Enjolras. “She’s helping me study.”

Robespierre was doing nothing of the sort. She was lounging nearby Enjolras while he studied, munching on squash and green beans. She was absolutely unhelpful, but Enjolras looked content.

“It’s time for you to explain literally any part of this,” said Grantaire.

“I have an iguana,” said Enjolras.

“Yeah, okay,” said Grantaire.

“Iguanas have to go to the restroom in running water,” said Enjolras. “For some reason. When I said I had to bathe my lizard, I actually had to go bathe my lizard. So she wouldn’t shit all over my floor.”

Grantaire looked shell-shocked. He opened and closed his mouth a few times.

“Uh,” he said. “Why do you have an iguana?”

Enjolras closed his eyes and exhaled. “I stole her.”

“Alright, sure,” said Grantaire. “Cool, cool, cool. Great. You stole an iguana.”

“I was eleven, in my defense,” said Enjolras.

“What the fuck, man?” said Grantaire.

“All this to say,” said Enjolras, finally putting his phone away. “I’d really like to get that coffee with you now.”

There was a pause.

“Do you not have to, like,” Grantaire waved a hand around, searching for words. “I dunno, help your lizard shit?”

“No, I do,” said Enjolras. “But I have a coffee maker in my apartment.”

“Oh,” said Grantaire.

\---

“This is Robespierre,” said Enjolras, who was holding his lizard like a supervillain held a cat.

“Holy fuck,” said Grantaire.

“Come on, before she gets agitated,” said Enjolras.

Grantaire followed them into the bathroom, inspecting Enjolras’s apartment as he went. In some ways, it looked as though a child lived there. There were no coloring books or toys strewn about, but certain things were knocked over in such peculiar disarray that it seemed as though a toddler had done it.

“That’s because iguanas are basically the cats of the reptile world,” said Enjolras. “She likes to knock things over and ruin my day. Also, I love her.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” said Grantaire, who could not believe any of this.

Enjolras ran the water and placed Robespierre in the tub. They all waited for a moment.

“So, I believe we have things to discuss,” said Enjolras.

“Okay,” said Grantaire.

“I first want to apologize for the way I’ve treated you in the past. I’ve never hated you. I forget sometimes that people can’t just understand me when I haven’t given them any substantial evidence to go off of,” said Enjolras.

“Uh, ditto,” said Grantaire. “I wanted to, like, say almost the same thing? But with this other thing also.”

“Okay,” said Enjolras.

“It’s like - I mean, when I thought about this conversation, I didn’t really anticipate the shitting lizard,” said Grantaire.

“We can wait a bit, if you prefer,” said Enjolras, shooting a glance towards Robespierre.

“No, it’s cool. It’s great. Good addition if you ask me,” said Grantaire. He coughed. “I mean, it’s fucked up for me to egg you on like I do, and then to get upset when you react unfavorably.”

“I shouldn’t react that way, though,” said Enjolras.

“You’re provoked,” said Grantaire.

“Not all the time,” said Enjolras. “Sometimes you try to make real additions to the group and I shut you down too quickly. You don’t deserve that.”

“Yeah, well,” Grantaire shrugged. “Call it classical conditioning.”

Enjolras shifted his weight. “This might be a conversation for another day. I feel as though we’ve done enough for the moment, particularly with my iguana taking a shit.”

Grantaire nodded. The two of them looked down at Robespierre, who was trying to climb out of the tub.

“Don’t do that,” said Enjolras. “Hold on a sec.”

He shut the water off.

\---

With Robespierre dried and fed, Enjolras put his hands on his hips.

“I promised you coffee,” he said. It was spoken with the same seriousness that he used when making demands of politicians or when promising something to someone who deserved better.

“Oh yeah,” said Grantaire. “I forgot.”

“I’ll put it on,” said Enjolras. “How do you like it?”

“Black,” said Grantaire. He couldn’t be sure if that was his favorite way to take it or not. He mostly drank it black because it was easiest and he needed something quick and brutal to get him through long nights of portfolio work.

“Black,” repeated Enjolras. “Got it. I take mine with a lot of milk and chocolate and sugar, but you can take yours black.”

Grantaire laughed and then caught himself, chopping off the laugh at the source. It came out as a bark. He wasn’t ready to laugh in Enjolras’s apartment yet.

“Uh,” Grantaire coughed. “Are you telling me you just drink hot chocolate?”

“I prefer to think of them as mochas,” said Enjolras. “I do put  _ some _ coffee in them.”

“Uh-huh,” said Grantaire. “And I’m the Queen of England.”

“Robespierre was once,” said Enjolras. “For Halloween.”

Grantaire bit his lip to stifle his laughter. Robespierre had been the Queen of England for Halloween. Amazing.

**Author's Note:**

> all the iguana care should be accurate?? iguanas are vegetarians and do well on lettuce, squash, cantaloupe, etc. they also have to poop in running water. they get to be really fucking long, like, female green iguanas can be like five feet long (including tail) and males can be like seven feet long. its so wild.  
> anyway, please leave me a comment. idk what this is, but id appreciate a comment. i love them.  
> if you want to hang out with me when im not on ao3, consider following my tumblr @putoriius ! we can chat and hang out itll be nice


End file.
